Thursday, April 22, 2010

4.22.10




For whatever reason, I feel like telling Lyra's story. I'm not a writer. If my college would have had minors while I was there, I would have minored in English. I really only took those classes because I love reading. I don't do grammar, and I am terrible at punctuating correctly. I'm also good at rambling. Toss in the other faux pas of writing, and I make up a nice big mess (although I am conscious of spelling and capitalization). That's why this blog was intended for my artwork...my goal to be creative everyday...my accountability...my grief. I have abstained from apologizing about my inexperience in the various art mediums I try out...or the poor quality...or whatever else my critic tells me is awful about it. But writing is not my medium. So I must apologize now for that.

I intended to have very few children. And they would be a long ways down the road of our marriage. 5 years maybe? I wanted to travel and do my art and career. Husband was generally more open to the thought of children, and when we moved back to Kansas after completing school, we decided to try doing the trifecta of “the most stressful things in life”: moving, starting full time jobs, and getting pregnant after 3.5 years of marriage. We're pros at flying by the seat of our pants, so we just went with it, and told everyone from the moment we knew we were pregnant.

Despite being utterly scared and ignorant about pregnancy and birth, we were also very excited. Husband poured over cloth diaper options, and we bought clothes very early on, even without knowing the gender. When we found out we were having a little girl, we immediately decided on her name but decided to keep it to ourselves so we had a little secret between the two of us. It was a picture perfect pregnancy. No issues, no concerns.

Once we made it to the third trimester, I started to breathe a teensy bit easier. It was all easy from here on, right? One week makes up the final moments of our time with her. Three specific days though (15th-17th), stick out in my had in which I look back on and wonder if we could have known.

Saturday, the 12th:
I hadn't felt her move as much, so I called my doctor's on call nurse at the hospital and she recommended coming in to hook me up and check out everything. Everyone was reassuring that it's better to come in and find out, than to wait and have something bad happen. Lyra was moving just as she should – with her heart rate right where it should be. They sent me home with a list of things to come back in for, but otherwise everything should be ok. I told Husband that we wouldn't worry so much. That my body would tell me if something was wrong – either by bleeding or cramping or pain.

Tuesday, the 15th:
I was a part of a county program to help educate families about pregnancy and labor. I figured I could always learn more, and plus I'd get to hear the baby's heartbeat each time we met. The nurse had a hard time finding the heartbeat because Lyra was moving around. Once she found it, it was lower than average, but was still within the safe range.

Thursday, the 17th:
I have my routine appointment with my doctor. I lay down and he can't find her heartbeat. He asks me when she last moved, and I think I felt her that morning. I do remember telling Husband the night before that she was sitting funny though...heavier. I question when I did feel her move last. I hadn't done the kick counts as often as I should have. He brings in the sonogram machine, and there's obviously no heartbeat. I have to call Husband at work, and we are sent straight to the hospital to induce.

Friday, the 18th:
I have an epidural. She's born breach. The cord is around her neck and we think that's why she died. We don't get an autopsy. So many decisions to make. So many things we didn't really have time to think through - and it's like our brain is lagging behind.


Saturday, the 19th:
We bury her.





Fast forward to April, and we recently found out she died from placental abruption. I'm still processing that answer to her death. When did the placenta fully pull away? Why did it happen? I should have had pain, and bleeding. I had nothing though. Why didn't my body tell me? We could have done an emergency c-section and we could have our little girl with us. Sometime between Tuesday and Thursday she died. And I should have known.

Of course I'm not supposed to think it was my fault. That I couldn't have done anything different. But when my whole role was to watch out for my little girl, I could have done things different. I hope that Lyra knew how much we loved her – oh how we loved her! We had to write down the ways we prepared for her so we had something to hold onto – some tangible evidence that we were good parents.

And we are parents. It doesn't feel like it. I share the first half of the birthing process with other moms, but that's where it ends. Parents bring their kids home, and worry about them getting sick and hurt. I worry about weeds on her gravesite and if her tiger is still there. Someday I hope to share in those other worries, but for now this is how I take care of my daughter. Because I'm her mom.

29 comments:

  1. Thank you for sharing Lyra's story. It is hard to write about this part of our children, but you did a good job. I imagine it must have been hard to have one answer and then get another down the line. I have to say, I don't know if this is helpful, but I think that just about everything I did caused my baby's death, and deep down, rationally, I know it was nothing I did. I wish I knew how to move beyond the guilt, but I have come to accept it as part of my grief. A sucky part, but still a part. Sending you love.

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  2. My heart aches to read your expressive words. Thank you for writing it and sharing it with us. It honors Lyra, and you as her mom, to have her story told.

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  3. Oh man. We all should have known. right. I knew something was up, his movements slowed. But that damn doppler lulled me into complacency too. The next day he was gone. His little heart worked so hard to overcome a clot I had thrown at him. I never knew. I still don't know if that's what it was. All we had to do was get them out alive right? It sucks so bad.

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  4. My heart aches for you. I had a placenta problem as well. I did have some bleeding early on and a ton of ultrasounds, but no one saw anything. I too wonder why this happened. I love the picture you posted. Lyra is BEAUTIFUL! xx

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  5. Hugs. My DH spent ages looking at cloth nappies as well. xx

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  6. Oh, wow. I'm so glad to read your story - it helps me understand many more facets of your grief.

    We have to remember that we ARE moms, even if we didn't get to bring our girls home. And someday we'll have their younger siblings and be able to tell them about their older sisters.

    Sigh. Sending you both so much love...

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  7. Lyra is beautiful! Thank you for sharing. We all wish things could have been different and we all wonder why. It just isn't fair. Many hugs to you Rachel. You are a great Mommy! :)

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  8. what a beautiful name! thanks for sharing her story...I hate that we are in this boat of being mommies to babies in heaven...lots of love!

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  9. Oh Rachel I'm so sorry that you lost your Lyra and for what you've been through. We knew that we were likely going to lose our Gracie because she had trisomy 18 but for some reason I still blame myself too. It's so hard to let that go, such a deep instinct to protect and keep our children safe. You did a great job of telling your story. I feel the same way about my writing.

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  10. thanks for sharing your story and lyra is beautiful, i care for harvey still by keeping fresh flowers by his photographs and ashes at home. it too makes me feel like i'm doing mommy things. i think your writing is beautiful, big hugs, anne xxx

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  11. You did a beautiful job sharing Lyra's story, I feel like I know her a little more. She is beautiful in her picture and in your heart. I bet you cried a lot while writing her story. I teared up while reading it, going back to those days in my mind is something I try to only let happen when I am prepared to cry and cry. Sometimes those memories creep up on me. I try to remember Frost by how he opened our hearts. Your story shows us how Lyra opened your heart also. For being so tiny all of our babies are still very, very powerful.

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  12. Oh my, Lyra was such a pretty little girl, that photo is beautiful.
    Thank you for sharing your story. Like you I blame myself for my daughters death, even though I know logically it was not my fault.
    Mothering a grave is so sad, but all we are left with.x

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  13. I'm so sorry. Your Lyra is beautiful.
    You couldn't have known, you simply couldn't have. You are good parents, you loved her so much and she was surrounded by that love everyday of her life. I'm just so sorry that your perfect little girl isn't here in your arms. x

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  14. Thank you for sharing Lyra's story. You told it with emotion and love for your little girl. It is so easy to blame ourselves, but you did nothing wrong. Try not to let guilt and blame fill your heart.

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  15. It is so hard to do, the telling of it. I hope writing Lyra's story and sharing her with us has helped you to feel heard and surrounded by people who understand.

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  16. this was so hard to read, yet beautiful. it is so familiar . i can hear that same ache in your words that i have in m heart everytime i go over Aquila's story in my mind. i have not made it to the point of wrighting her story (except for my very emotionally-based version i wrote in the week after her death. it is good that you were able to write and share this.thank you

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  17. I second guess myself constantly and wonder if I only would have.... I know I did the best I could for my girls, and I know you did too. But it still doesn't take away the pain. I am so sorry your sweet little Lyra is not here with you in your arms. xx

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  18. I know how you feel! The same thing happened to me. I didn't know. I feel so bad that I wasn't able to protect him. Sending you big hugs. So glad you were finally able to write about her birth.

    ((HUGS))

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  19. So heartbreaking, yet so familiar to me. So many moments just like my own story.
    Lyra is beautiful. I am so sorry.
    xo

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  20. What a little beauty!
    Thank you for sharing Lyra's story. xo

    I was wondering if you would share where or how you came up with Lyra's name? It is so unique and so beautiful.

    xo

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  21. Thank you for sharing Lyra's story with all of us. I will be lighting Sky's candle for her tonight...

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  22. Beautiful name. Beautiful little girl.

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  23. Oh Lyra. I've been reading your blog for a long time, but I hadn't seen her photo until now. She's just lovely. Sending so much love. xxh

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  24. Thank-you for sharing Lyra with us. Your story is very touching. We lost our little girl @ 27 weeks due to a congenital heart defect. It is one of the most defining moments in my life. I am a L&D nurse and am one of the few who handle fetal demise because it is such a difficult thing; it is so difficult to say good-bye when you never really got to say hello. (((Hugs)))

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  25. Thank you for sharing your story of your precious Lyra. I'm so sorry for your loss and heartache.
    Love,
    Lynnette

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  26. I learned of your blog from my friend Aimee (I think she's your friend, too?) Thank you for writing this...it is my very thought process RIGHT NOW. We lost our son, Rowan, Dec. 12, 2012. I've gone through much of the same feelings...thinking I should have known. He was 38 weeks along. I THOUGHT I felt him move the night before my 38 week check-up (when I was told he had no heartbeat). I wonder, how did I not know? Ro had a double nuchal cord (nearly flattened completely) around his neck. I've been needing to hear similar stories to help me take the blame off of myself because I'm haunted by guilt. I just wanted to say I needed your words today, so thank you.
    Sending you a hug because of some kind of kinship I feel with you, and sending you comfort in what must be lingering heartache for sweet Lyra.
    -Tara

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  27. I wanted to add that I delivered Rowan on December 17, 2012. He was buried on December 21, 2012. The gap in time is due to my husband being deployed with the US Navy. We were able to wait 5 days to deliver until he returned to the States. Instead of burying our son in RI (where we only live temporarily), we did so in our home state of IN (where most of our family lives).

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  28. Thank you for sharing your story and allowing me to read it. I lost my baby in January and it's been really hard but hearing your story has been a great help. So many think that you are only a mother if you have a living, breathing child that can be held, but I am just as much Avery's mom!

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